Page 21 of Once, Again, Always

Molly blinked. On a technical level, all the words Bishop said made perfect sense. They even made sense in that specific configuration. But in the context of her dad? Unprompted gift giving wasn’t a thing in Richard Graham’s playbook. He gave gifts on birthdays and major holidays. That was it.

“But . . . why?”

Bishop drummed his fingers on the tabletop several times.

When he didn’t answer, Molly finally prompted with, “Bishop? What’s so serious about a gift card?”

“It’s not the gift card. It’s just—this is why it would have been helpful for me to join that call with him.” He paused. Then, “Has he told you much about his personal life in the last couple of years?”

A beat of anxiety thumped behind Molly’s breastbone. Her dad had no personal life, not really. He worked, he went to HOA meetings, and he read painfully dull military history tomes for fun. Not even Molly could get into them.

She swallowed. “He did not.”

“He met someone. A couple of years ago. Terry. That’s her name. She’s been . . . really good for him, actually. Got him doing yoga. Pretty sure he learned about care packages from her.”

Molly had to press her lips together. If this was Bishop’s way of introducing her to more of her own life, she couldn’t scare him off with a strong reaction. No matter how badly disbelief pressed against the back of her teeth.

“Terry,” Molly finally said. Not exactly a statement or a question or even a confirmation. Just a name. A name she didn’t know.

“You like her, if that helps.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She has been good for him. He’s been a lot more relaxed since meeting her.”

“Probably the yoga.”

Bishop snorted a laugh. Then looked horrified at himself. Then looked to Molly, clearly worried.

“That was a joke,” she said. “I think.”

Bishop began drumming his fingers again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asked.

“Talk about what?” There was nothing to talk about, never mind the white-knuckle grip Molly had around her coffee mug.

“It was weird for you at first.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how I feel.” Molly dragged in a breath. “Felt.”

She resolutely did not need to unpack any of the strange grief currently echoing through her. She’d lost her mom when she was still in elementary school. She knew her dad more as a widower than as someone’s partner. That loss had been neatly packed away and processed for some time now.

She wasn’t supposed to feel it knocking at the chambers of her heart like an unwelcome solicitor because her dad had finally started dating someone new. Or not so new. New to her.

It wasn’t that she expected him to be the kind of person who went to his grave never having dated or remarried, but it had kind of started to look like that would be the case.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. Because she was. At least, she would be once the initial surprise wore off. She could already feel it settling into something like cautious relief that he wasn’t all alone out there in Arizona.

A knock at the door saved Molly from having to convince Bishop that she could handle more of this kind of thing. Bishop rose, answered it, and suddenly Roy was sweeping into the kitchen, hugging her a warm hello.

“I just need a minute. Your place is on the way home, and I’ve got in-person kind of news,” Roy said in a gust. Excited energy radiated from him, one of the things she loved best about him. Roy was someone filled to the brim with life and thrilled to be living it. It was a familiar, welcome comfort to have in her kitchen.

“Oh?” Molly asked.

“Promotion. I got a promotion. Head coach. Mike is retiring.”

Molly squealed. She’d only recently gotten caught up on Roy’s baseball career, plagued by a persistent rotator cuff injury. But he seemed to like coaching in the minor leagues well enough, even if Molly’s own dreams of his dazzling athletic success had been dashed. Roy’s career was a much easier thing to focus on than the strange limbo her own currently lived in.